Chapter 11

The flickering light of the muted television created shifting shadows around them. Bobby had dimmed the lights while they watched a movie, and hadn't turned them back up when it ended.

Now he and Blythe lounged on either end of the couch, their feet meeting in the middle to casually intermix, their raised knees moving from side to side to keep from blocking the view of each other's face.

"So, you gonna play ball this year?" she said softly. "Everyone understands why you might not – but you know that off-season workouts are next week, right?"

Bobby groaned. "Not you, too? I swear, more girls are asking me about baseball this year than ever showed up at the games."

The cheerleaders were indeed swarming around Bobby whenever he paused in the hallways at school. If he didn't agree to turn out and improve Dave's career prospects soon, Rachael was going to have them start handing him their panties. If that didn't work ... well, hadn't she had told Dave she didn't see fooling around as cheating?

"I wasn't planning on it," he continued. "I thought I'd leave the glory to the girls. Maybe you'll be the ones going to state this year."

She slid her foot between his legs to poke him in the butt with her big toe. "Don't change the subject. Sammy wants you to play."

He reached down to grab her foot. "That's nice."

"She said Collette does, too."

"Uh, huh."

Her look was coy. "If you go out for the team, maybe we can start, you know, throwing together."

That at least got a raised eyebrow. "Throwing?"

"Yeah; we'll take turns using a softball and a hardball."

"That'll get your mitt out of shape."

She grinned. "Is that what they're it calling these days?"

He laughed and slapped her foot. "Naughty girl."

She pulled her foot free and got up on her knees between his legs, her hands on her hips, looking down reproachfully. "With all those cheerleaders chasing you, what does a poor girl have to do to get your attention, anyway?"

"Uh, I'm sorry. There's just been so much going on, and I just broke up with Collette, so..."

She laughed gently. "I'm just teasing. Did you know that Sammy says I'm your type?"

"I didn't even know I had a 'type'," Bobby protested.

She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. She remembered what Sammy had told her: 'Dare to be great.'

"Maybe I need to remind you of my qualifications," she said softly.

His eyes grew large as she crossed her arms and grasped the bottom of her blouse in front. She bit the inside of her lip for a moment. He began to reach for her hand. "Blythe..."

She pulled her top off, revealing a low cut bra and cleavage deep enough for a man to get lost in.

Pete pulled into the driveway. He was doing his best to mask the foul mood that had begun with Barbara's reserved attitude towards him, and further enflamed when Al had refused to green-light the hit. He wondered what little slut had dropped in to visit Bobby and mess up his plans.

He'd assumed that Al had left the area after their heated phone conversation. But Al had only dismissed the hit man, and was still watching - his night-vision binoculars were now filled with the image of Pete and Barbara in his car.

Barbara reached for the door handle when he put the car in park.

"Wait," he said, grasping her arm to stay her escape.

She looked at him questioningly, too polite to ignore him.

"I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong tonight."

She sighed. "Pete, it's all right. I like you, I really do. But I get the impression you are looking for more from me than I can give you. Can you understand that?" she asked gently.

"But you do want to be friends, right?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she said, patting his hand.

Still holding her arm, he slid towards her. "I'd love to be your friend, Barbara."

Her eyes widened, her smile becoming rigid.

"I mean, you must be lonely these days. I know I am."

He reached for her far shoulder, while she put her hands on his chest.

Al's vision of the couple was blocked for a moment by a car that passed him and stopped across the street from the house he'd been watching all night.

Sammy climbed out, thanking the classmate that had given her a lift home. She turned to her house as the car pulled away, recognizing Pete's car in the driveway. She could see the couple in the front seat drawing closer together.

"What a slut," she thought, as she walked towards the car.

"Blythe, wow, you're beautiful, but I'm not..."

To cut him off, Blythe quickly pulled the bra down under her breasts. His mouth hung open silently. Her nipples were hard and thick, protruding from silver dollar sized areolas. His reaction emboldened her.

"Sammy says I'm bigger than Collette. What do you think?" she asked, mentally cursing the quiver in her voice. When he didn't react she steeled herself and reached for his hands, pulling them to cup her tits, rubbing the backs of his fingers to encourage him.

"Sammy said that?" he murmured distractedly.

"She should know."

"W-why's that?"

Blythe just gave him a raised eyebrow in response.

"Oh." Unbidden, his hands began to explore her lush chest. She leaned into them encouragingly before pressing her lips to his.

After a moment of passivity, he responded by brushing his tongue across her lower lip. She sucked on his mouth to draw it into hers. Groaning, she reached for his belt. He pulled back to look at her.

"Uh, wait, let's..." he protested before she stopped him with another open mouthed kiss.

"Please, Bobby?" she murmured. "You need this as much as I do."